Music Is My Hot, Hot Sex
by ButterBritches
Summary: Elaine's plan to gain 15 Division some positive publicity allows Gail some musical expression and introduces her to Holly, a forensic pathologist/drummer.
1. Chapter 1

Elaine Peck loved attention. Her preferred forms were praise, respect, admiration, jealousy, and fear. Her new project was trying to improve the image of the 15 Division in the eye of the public. It wasn't that 15 Division was battling any particular negative publicity, it was that they weren't garnering any publicity.

Like everything Elaine did, it was thorough and intense. It was a multi-tiered initiative layering assaults on all the different age groups. As far as Gail was concerned, it was a shit storm disguised as sunshine. But Gail knew participation in the army of darkness was mandatory for a Peck, so she had her sunglasses and shit slicker on the ready. As a Peck, there was no way she was getting out of this clean.

When Elaine told Gail what her mission would be, Gail huffed and puffed, and rolled her eyes and did almost everything else compulsory etiquette courses had attempted to rip out of her. Truth is, Gail saw an opportunity to do as she was told and still disappoint Elaine. The thought almost made her giddy, whatever giddy meant.

Her task, as she was forced to accept it, was to try out for, and under no circumstances, fail to make, the 15 Division band (to be named later). Gail had interrupted her mother then to ramble several comments about being "horny", "blowing pipes", and "fingering keys". Elaine was nonplussed. She forcefully continued, disregarding Gail's smirk. The band was to play popular music appealing to teens through forty-somethings at community events to make the police seem more "cool".

"Ooooo. 'Cool.' How very."

"How very what?" Elaine asks.

"No, no, that's it. How very. Heathers was on Showtime last week. It was either that or 'Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.' I thought you might appreciate my restraint."

Elaine ignores the taunt. "It's about time you put those piano lessons to use, Gail Peck. Now show a little respect and prove that all the money that your father and put into you was not a waste."

"You want me to dazzle the youngsters of Toronto with a little Bach? Maybe some Beethoven? I know, maybe I can find a way to weave some rap lyrics in. It could be like composer-Compton mashup. A little piano trill for my homies."

Piano lessons were forced upon Gail, as was track and field, debate club, student government, and summer internships at the police department. While she would never let her mother know, Gail actually liked playing piano. She didn't necessarily like the lessons and the recitals, but she appreciated that they taught her to read music and about music theory. These things helped her explore music on her own, in her own way. Music was always something that Gail was drawn to. As much as possible, she set her life to a soundtrack. If she wasn't listening to music, she was singing, or playing. She loved all types of music and could sing and play all different genres. She spent a lot of time at the local music store, somewhere her mother would never look for her based on the blasé front Gail put on with regards to the piano. The owner was cool and would let her hang out and experiment with the instruments. She took a couple of synthesizer lessons to accustom herself with all the different features of the instrument, and she took a handful of guitar lessons to learn the basics of playing. Her knowledge of musical theory and her well attuned musical ear made her a quick study. She was by no means a prodigy, but she could pretty much play what she wanted and even join in to whatever others were playing even if she didn't know the song.

Singing, though, singing was what Gail loved most. It was the experience of vocalizing the lyrics and being the source of the music that made her feel really alive. Gail really valued those times she got to become the music and feel every word of the song and nuance of the melody. She valued it so much because feeling was something her mother didn't really allow her to do. Displays of emotion were not appropriate for caliber of woman Elaine intended Gail to become. When she sang, Gail become raw emotion. It was an outlet for everything inside of her. And her voice was hers alone, and it was always with her. Music was always with her.

So all of those things she had hid from her mother all of these years would now be both a feather in Elaine's cap and a demonstration of rebellion to her face. She would show her mother how Gail Peck did music.

As Elaine's mouth stopped moving, Gail refocused on the outside world. Having no idea what Elaine spent the last 2 minutes yapping about, Gail said, "Fine, Mother. I will participate in your sinister plan for world domination."

"I know you will. Auditions are Wednesday, 7 PM, at the training campus clubhouse.

The auditions were well publicized over the next few days at 15 Division and its supporting functions, including the forensics lab. There were reminders every parade and multiple emails with time, location, and a list of instruments that would be available for anyone who chose not to bring their own. There would be an acoustic and electric guitar, electric bass, upright bass, drums, upright piano, and keyboard, as well as all supporting electronics. By the time Wednesday rolled around and Gail walked into the clubhouse, she was just glad she wouldn't have to hear or read about auditions anymore.

Looking around Gail only saw a few familiar faces. None of her friends were really musically gifted, so none of the people milling about would be people who would lord this experience over her for days on end, using it as an excuse to talk to her or about her. That took some of her nerves away, as did the flask she would occasionally drink from when no one was looking. Most of the people here Gail didn't know at all and that's how she preferred it.

When 7 o' clock rolled around Elaine called for the group's attention, and, in typical Elaine Peck fashion, laid down the law. The ground rules of the auditions were fairly simple: sign in, demonstrate your talent(s) for the judges, be judged. If you made the cut, you came out and played or sang with others who made the cut. If there was a perceived tie (same instrument, same level of musical talent) the decision would be made based on performance. Elaine made it clear she didn't want a group of competent musicians who were visually boring. Elaine Peck was all about show and the band that would represent her in this publicity initiative would be nothing short of dynamic. As Elaine spoke to the crowd and relayed all of this information, Gail would occasionally roll her eyes and shake her head. It was just like Elaine to take something that could be fun and make it sound threatening.

"Alright everybody, you've got 30 minutes to sign in, set up, and practice if you choose. Make the most of it."

With that they were set free from Elaine's authoritative drone and no-fun demeanor. As the group scattered, Gail took another covert draw from the flask, closed her eyes and momentarily just let herself feel the warmth in her stomach and the slight tingle in her legs from the alcohol. When she opened her eyes she just stood and took everything in. She would never let on, but she was excited. It was just like when she walked in to the music store, there was an energy here that charged her . These people were here because they loved music. In her mind, that already made them better than her friends.

It looked like a lot of the people here were guitar players. All of them seemed to have brought their own guitars. Gail hadn't brought any instruments. The song she had selected to play and sing required a synthesizer and she couldn't make herself bring her own just for a song. Besides, she was used to playing all different instruments. Between the music store, playing with her friends in school, and not wanting Elaine to know what she was doing, Gail played exclusively on borrowed instruments for four years. This would be a walk in the park. As she walked to the front and looked at the synthesizer and guitar she realized that she had even played both of these instruments before.

Gail tried not to pay too much attention to anyone around her as she went about her business. Doing so would likely bring back some of the nerves she had managed to quell. She just did a quick check on the synthesizer she would use as well as the guitar (because you never know,) to make sure they were plugged in and working with their respective electronics.

Walking away from the instruments she started to hear a few people singing in the background, presumably warming up their voices. A couple of men and a couple of women. Nobody was talented enough to make Gail nervous and the songs they were singing were predictably boring. The boredom was eventually broken though, by a loud steady pattern of changing drum beats. First one drum . . . thump, thump, thump . . . then on to the next and so on. Gail turned to see who had saved her from the over-emoted and under-ranged renderings of various male rock anthems and Kelly Clarkson songs.

Now this, this was not boring. This was unexpected. The person manifesting the bass beats currently rattling Gail's cage was a woman. It wasn't like Gail thought that a female drummer was unexpected, but being as though this particular band was drawing from such a limited pool of musicians, a male-heavy pool at that, she just didn't expect to see a woman. She especially didn't expect to see this woman. This drummer had long black hair falling in gentle curls as it passed her shoulders. She was beautiful and, Gail had to admit, put together nicely. Big eyes, nice lips, tan skin. She was long, and lean, and the tank top she wore confirmed, well muscled. Her movements were fluid, eluding to a coordination that Gail assumed would make her a good drummer.

When the woman seemed satisfied with drums and their setup, she stood, and turned towards Gail. Seeing the woman from the front for the first time, Gail felt her insides flip. Wait, not flip. Shift? As Gail struggled internally to sort herself out, she watched Holly practically glide over to her in 5 long steps.

"Hi. I'm Holly. Are you okay? You seem a bit flushed."

"Booze." Gail holds up the flask in response to Holly's question before she takes another drink from the flask to try to calm the butterflies that have emerged. She chalks their exuberant fluttering up to nerves re-excited by the proximity of the start of the auditions. Holly watched her swallow with a growing smile. As Gail lowered the flask, she watched that smile become adorably lopsided as the left side clearly exhibited more stamina than the right, reaching significantly higher.

"Drink?" Gail offers the flask to Holly.

"Don't mind if I do." Holly's smile falls a little, becoming more restrained. It is different from the unbridled grin of earlier. Gail isn't sure what this new smiling is conveying, but the butterflies threatening to burst out of her torso sure do like it.


	2. Chapter 2

Elaine stepped up to the mic at 7:30 sharp, ready to get this plan underway. She started by introducing the three people who, along with her, of course, would be judging everybody's performance. Elaine had gotten a few musical somebodies Gail didn't know to come in and judge. She had called on friends of friends who knew people who taught music, played in bands, produced records, and so on. Gail almost had to give her props. These three musicians/judges seemed to have their shit together. Together they might be able to keep Elaine in check and choose a band that was actually worth the instruments they played. Elaine sure as shit wouldn't know how to do that.

"Alright everybody, we're going to get started. First up, on lead guitar, Devon Brody from 15 Division."

Of course Elaine wouldn't start with Gail. She would want to make sure any kinks in the setup got worked out first. Gail also knew that she wouldn't be too far into the lineup either. Elaine knew that Gail was not a fan of public speaking and she would most likely assume that fear would translate to any type of public performance. As Gail started to get annoyed with her own assumptions about the preferential treatment she might be getting, she hit the flask again.

"I never got your name."

Gail looks next to her where Holly is still standing, watching the guy on stage live out his rock star fantasy, only without actually being any good.

"Well, Holly, that is most likely because I never gave it to you."

"Hmm. You do know I am a drummer, right? Most women would have given me their underwear by now."

"You didn't ask for my underwear, Holly. You asked for my name. I think I'd rather give you my underwear, though. At least you wouldn't be able to use them to hunt me down and stalk me like I know you want to."

"Actually, I work in forensics. I could find out more information from your underwear than I could with your name."

"Gross. Is this how you get all the girls Holly? Because what you just said is creepy."

Holly laughs and shakes her head. When her warm brown eyes return to Gail's icy blues, Gail rolls them away but relents.

"I'm Gail. I am the most wonderful person you will ever meet. You're welcome."

"Nice to meet you Gail, you know, despite of all of your . . . words."

"Whatever. Let me see your iPod Holly."

Holly looks shocked.

"Gail, I barely know you."

"Trade then. Booze for tunes?" Holly still looks hesitant, but concedes. Reaching into her back pocket, she produces the player.

As Elaine calls up the next person, Gail and Holly exchange the flask and the iPod. Gail starts quickly scrolling through artists and songs. Holly was right, music is a private thing. Letting someone into your musical library is like unlocking your soul. Each song is a story of a place you've been or want to go, or an emotion you've felt or want to feel. She was basically rifling through Holly's life, and Holly was letting her, trusting her to tread lightly while letting Gail's booze ease any fears that Gail could break that trust.

After a couple of minutes, she hands the player back to Holly. Theirs hands brush in the exchange. As brief as the contact is, it is charged. Gail's hand continues to buzz long after Holly's hand is gone. Did Holly feel it too? Gail watches the hand return the iPod to its previous position in Holly's jeans. She watches that hand unscrew the cap of the flask before Holly raises it to her lips for a last draw. She watches the liquor travel down Holly's throat as the swallow manifests as a wave on the previously smooth column of Holly's neck. The buzzing in Gail's hand begins jumping around in her body and radiating outward overtaking more and more of her insides. Holly's hand returns, this time to Gail's wrist which she pulls up in order to place the flask on Gail's palm. The hand, that beautiful tan hand, remains on top of the flask momentarily until Gail closes her fingers around the object.

"Thanks, Nerd." Gail clears her throat, a bit uncomfortable with her body's reaction to Holly. As they return to standing side by side watching the averagely boring performance on stage, Holly leans over and bumps shoulders with Gail. Holly is smiling again, and maybe, Gail thinks, blushing. It is hard to tell with Holly's complexion, but when a brief flash of eye contact is broken by Holly to look down at her own feet, Gail feels a little more sure about what she thought she saw. The little smile of realization is short-lived as Elaine returns to the mic.

"Next up is Dr. Holly Stewart from forensics. She will be playing the drums."

As Holly walks over to the drum set, Gail suspects that she may actually be the more nervous than Holly. Holly bends over and picks up the drumsticks, looking cool and collected like she did this every day. After a small shift on the stool and a single breath to settle, Holly unleashes a flurry of thunder, filling the entire space with multifarious beats woven into a display of undeniable craftsmanship. Holly was a drummer through and through. Gail watches her take full advantage of every drum in the kit as she pounds out the beats enthusiastically, making it seem fun, not rote like a lot of drummers Gail had seen before. Her song selection is perfect, fast and funky with solid bursts of bass and a hint of multicultural flair. Holly is the epitome of grace, power, and beauty out there and there is no doubt in Gail's mind that at the end of the night all four of the judges will have selected Holly to be a member in Elaine's Project Bandcamp. Gail sums up the spectacle in four words. Holly. Fucking. Nailed. It.

When the song ends, the judges actually clap. Holly smiles and gives them a quick salute with her drumsticks in true rock star fashion. When she walks up to Gail, she lets the smile grow hopelessly wide, almost threatening to force her ears to the the back of her head.

"Careful there, nerd, you might break your face if you smile any harder."

"You better watch it yourself, officer. You might break yours by trying so hard not to smile. You're not fooling me, this cool facade longs for nerdy happiness."

Holly's right. Now that she's been called out, she let's herself smile and momentarily soaks in the easiness of it. It has been an exercise in muscle control to keep from smiling at Holly all night. Just a reminder of how hard it is to be as cool as Gail Peck.

"I think my mother is in love with you." Holly's eyes follow Gail's line of sight to Elaine.

"She's your mother?"

"Yup." Holly looks at Gail as if she is trying to figure out whether she can see it.

"Shit. Here she comes." Gail's voice is quiet as Elaine approaches on her way to the microphone.

"Next to perform is Gail Peck from 15 Division."

Gail watches her mother glare over at her. Gail purposely didn't list the nature of her performance and that, she knows, has earned her this round of disapproval.

As she stands there momentarily suspended in second thoughts, she feels a hand squeeze hers. Holly smiles and offers a reassuring nod.

"You're going to be great, Gail Peck," she whispers and squeezes again.

As if on autopilot, Gail's feet carry her to the synthesizer, yet unused tonight. See looks up just enough to see her mother, to see the expression on her face. It isn't pride in the fact that Gail is standing in front of a group of strangers, something Elaine believes Gail is terrified to do. It is a look of smug satisfaction. It is a look that says that clearly now Gail will have to be grateful to her for the years of forced piano lessons. It is this look that forces the nervousness out of Gail and ushers in the confidence that can only be truly embraced when she heaves a great big sigh of 'fuck it'. This is the part where Gail shows Elaine that she does not now, nor did she ever truly have control of Gail or her life.

Just like always, as her fingers hit the keys and the chords start to become the song, she just follows where it takes her. She chose this song because it is well suited to her voice and because it has such a powerful hold on her. There was a time in her life when she was convinced it was her song, when she was with Nick . . . again. Between the emotions that accompany the memories brought up by the song and, now, a powerful urge to blindside her mother, Gail knows this song has the guts to squelch her nerves and her fear and be the performance she needs.

You're a no good heart breaker

You're a liar and you're a cheat

And I don't know why

I let you do these things to me

My friends keep telling me

That you ain't no good

But oh, they don't know

That I'd leave you if I could

I guess I'm uptight

And I'm stuck like glue

Cause I ain't never

I ain't never, I ain't never, no, no (loved a man)

(The way that I, I love you)

The words flow out like they are hers. Her voice is smoky and soulful, controlled yet emotive. As is so unlike her, she holds nothing back. She just lets all the passion of amassed pain empty her.

When the song has ended, when her fingers stop moving, Gail refocuses on her surroundings. It is quiet. It is almost too quiet. And everyone is staring, some wide-eyed, some mouths agape. This, she thinks, can either be bad or good but it definitely is not in between. Since she has ears, and since she tends to be highly self-critical, Gail decides that this reaction, or lack of one, is positive. Even she feels good about what she just did. That good feeling is quickly scattered to the wind, though, as she hears her mother's voice shatter the quiet.

"While we will all agree that that is a great song," she starts.

"And," interrupts the froggy looking judge, "amazingly performed." The other two judges nod while Elaine simply glares at him in visual reprimand.

"As I was saying," Elaine turns her attention back to Gail, "while Aretha Franklin is definitely one of the greatest singers of our times, it will be this band's task to appeal to the younger members of our community. Songs of the 1960's aren't going to do that, and I won't allow a decision to be made about your ability to front this band based on a performance not appropriate for the audience."

Gail joins the onlookers whose mouths are still agape.

"Are you serious? Do you even know anything about music?"

Gail's mouth drops open further as Holly steps into Elaine's line of sight.

"Ms. Stewart . . ."

"Doctor." Holly corrects.

"Holly," Gail says quietly as she takes her hand. "It's fine. Thank you but it's really okay."

"Bullshit," Holly hisses.

Gail smiles. "Trust me Holly. This is about to get fun."


	3. Chapter 3

"Holly, do you know 'Heaven Knows' by The Pretty Reckless."

"Um, Gail, that song is a lesbian drummers wet dream. It's easy, dirty, nasty, raw, drums carry it, crowd loves it. Oh, and chick's dig it. Do you know who they especially dig? The drummer." She nods, lips pursed and eyes slightly squinted sending out the cocky 'Oh yeah' loud and clear.

"You know Holly, I am starting to think you might actually be a lesbian."

"Only for you, Babe." Holly winks.

Gail's insides light up like a pyrotechnics display at the word "Babe".

_Don't smile. Don't smile. _

_Shit. _

Gail smiles and tilts her head toward the performance area.

"Well then, Chick Magnet, let's blow the roof off this bitch."

Gail grabs the electric guitar she tuned and sound checked earlier and straps it on. She looks back off to the side where Holly is collecting her sticks, and waits for Holly to meet her gaze.

"When I start the guitar riff, come on out. I will wait for you to join in." She speaks as quietly as she thinks will allow Holly to still hear and then offers a single nod because she's cool like that. The walk back to the mic is a little hesitant, but after she stands there for a second summoning her internal rock star the rock 'n' roll reenters the building. Raising her arm straight up in the air, she drops it down to the side in a sweeping motion hitting the the strings at the bottom. It is simple hard rock guitar, distorted and slightly scratchy. It is catchy and brief, a simple riff repeated over and over for the time it takes for Holly to walk from the side of the room to the drums. She is so fucking cool and confident already spinning the drumsticks on her walk over, nodding her head to the beat she know she will light the place up with. Gail watches her as long as is possible without turning her head. A sidelong glance is cool. A trailing head is weak, desperate. And so Gail faces forward, looking at the group looking at her and waiting. They look curious but energized. She's already got them. Holly is the cherry on top that seals this deal.

_Mmm cherry-flavored Holly. _

_Wait. Bad Gail. Eyes on the prize here. _

_No, no, the other prize. _

Gail turns her apparently weak and desperate self back to the front after somehow having ended up turned around watching Holly take a seat at the drums.

The bass drum resonates like thunder as Holly kicks it in. It is perfectly timed and awesomely loud. Gail feels every organ in her vibrate. Every one of her sensitive parts is lit up by the deep thudding, adding to the electricity already coursing through her. She is ready for this, ready to disappoint her mother, hopefully so much Elaine will question what she did wrong to end up with this daughter. Gail has a long rehearsed answer for that stored deep in her guts. Now wasn't time for the answer though. It was just time to raise the question.

_Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high_

_If you listen close_

_You can hear him cry_

_Oh, Lord, heaven knows_

_We belong way down below_

_Sing it_

And they do. Everyone in the room who isn't a pussy suck up, an overly-competitive douche bag, or a godawful singer joins in.

_Oh, Lord, heaven knows_

_We belong way down below_

_Way down below, way down below_

Actually even some godawful singers joined in. But so did the judges with the exception of Elaine.

_Judy's in the front seat picking up trash_

_Living on the dole_

_Gotta make that cash_

_Won't be pretty_

_Won't be sweet_

_She's just sittin' here on her feet_

_Oh, Lord, heaven knows_

_We belong way down below_

_Go_

_Oh, Lord, heaven knows_

_We belong way down below_

_Oh, Lord, tell us so_

_We belong way down below_

_Oh, Lord, tell us so_

_We belong way down below_

_Way down below, way down below_

_Way down below, way down below _

A beautiful hunk of a guy from 27 Division picks up a bass and joins Gail and Holly up front, followed by a lanky, nerdy looking guy from Holly's lab with an electric guitar that might weigh more than he does. Both prove worthy "stage" mates. While it isn't the toughest song to play, it is a song that takes attitude to pull off. The four of them don't just pull it off, they blow the doors off of it.

When the cheering dies down, Elaine is gone. Judge #1 stands up and the room falls silent.

"The true test of a musician is to pull something unplanned together that feels like it was supposed to happen all along. While music is about technical mastery, it is also about emotion. And with the kind of music you will be playing, it's about attitude. No matter what you are told," he hints at Elaine's dictatorship, "this is fifty percent 'thank you' and fifty percent 'fuck you'. You guys can play and Gail, you are a singer through and through. That is your 'thank you'. The way you all deliverd it, with thunder and venom, that my friends is the 'fuck you very much'. For lack of a better expression, you four showed a lot of balls. I will open the judges table to objections for the next five minutes, but, unless somebody proves different, we have our band."

The place erupts into cheering. Gail walks over and shakes hands with 27 and lanky nerd before turning to Holly.

"Thanks Hol."

"Hey, anytime. Or all the time as it may turn out. Anyway, it was fun."

Before Gail can offer any witty retort, a pack of people flood the area lauding their performance and offering congratulations.

_Holy shit, she was right. _

Holly is surrounded by people, mostly women. And Officer Luck.

_What the fuck, Luck?_

Gail feels fire. She can't quite pinpoint the type of fire she feels so she decides to go with hate fire.

"Thanks guys. Really, thanks. Excuse me for a minute, " Gail says before she squeezes in between the people gathered around her.

She stands at the outskirts of Holly' fan mob listening to them sing her praises.

"What are you doing after this?" Officer Luck asks.

"Uh . . . " Holly's eyes search the area. It isn't until her eyes find Gail's that she noticeably relaxes.

_Don't smi . . . fuck._

Gail smiles and winks at Holly.

_Nailed it_.

"Actually," Holly says to Luck without even looking at her, "I've got a date with the devil."

"Moi?" Gail asks pointing to herself.

"Mmm hmm. I would have thrown my panties at you but my hands were kind of busy."

"There's always later."

"Hopefully I'll have the same excuse then."

The beautiful smirk returns as Holly casually squeezes Luck out of the way to get to Gail.

And get to her she does. Holly doesn't stop at a friendly distance. She pushes forward until her hand can wrap around the back of Gail's head and pull her into a brief kiss. It is the softest of contact, allowing Gail to feel the fullness of Holly's beautiful lips.

Gail's eyes are still shut when Holly speaks.

"Want to get out of here?"

"You have no idea."

As they walk away together, Gail turns her head to look back at the group still collected around the drums.

"Sorry Luck. Everyone loves the lead singer."


End file.
